Bob Here.

 My introduction to the wonderful world of dialysis hardly ended with my tumultuous stay in the hospital or my rather unnerving first in-center treatment, most of which was spent in the inverted position.

 No, there was a lot more fun to come as I learned the ropes about the dialysis lifestyle's ins and outs.

 (Mostly outs, by the way.)

 And while at times I didn't react well as I learned how restrictive, monotonous, sickening, and terrifying it can be to be on dialysis, I have to admit it was no bed of roses for the people teaching me either.

 One would think that when you're dealing with such a serious illness as kidney failure, your doctor would be providing you with the most critical information that you need to keep on kickin'.

Bob Here.

My introduction to dialysis didn't end with my stormy stay in the hospital after discovering that my kidneys had gone splitsville from the land of the working body parts.

After that seemingly interminable visit (which I'm sure was no bed of roses for the staff either), I began what was to be a long stretch of in-center dialysis treatments.  And, since I had behaved so badly in the hospital, I didn't want the team in the center to feel left out, so I continued to exhibit somewhat sketchy manners when I first started there as well.

In addition, as a new dialysis patient, I still had a lot to learn about the treatment, how it worked, what I needed to do, side effects, and interactions with the different players in the center. 

And, to put it mildly, there were a few rocks in the road during my learning process, some of which could be directly tied back to the fact that I hadn't adjusted very well to the concept of needing these very long sessions on an ongoing basis.

Bob Here.

Dialysis is a life-saving treatment and, despite the lifestyle issues it can cause, we patients are lucky to have it.

As we say, it "beats the alternative."

However, when I look back to when I first started the Big D about a quarter of a century ago, (there were some 17 years with a working transplant in there) it's really a wonder that some member of the hospital staff didn't stamp 'REJECT' on my forehead and open one of those trap doors underneath my chair so that I would never be seen or heard from again.

To say that I didn't immediately adjust very well to starting on a dialysis regimen is being way too kind.

I actually started being difficult before I even had my first treatment.

Bob Here.

I've often wondered why dialysis patients don't get invited to more parties.

Then I thought, well maybe I should just speak for myself.  For all I know, my fellow patients might be inundated with social invitations.  Maybe they bring them on, letting it be known that they would actually LIKE to attend a gallery of friends.  Unlike me, that is.  I treat potential social gatherings about like I would behave toward to a visit to that proctologist who never trims his fingernails.

Yes, I thought, it's pretty well known among people around me that I am one miserably antisocial dude.

But before I put that reason/excuse to bed in my mind, I started reflecting on the issue a little further.

(Can you tell that I was on treatment and had some time to kill?)

Aside from my sometimes grisly behavior in the company of others, I considered that there may be other reasons why somebody arranging a gala might pass over me specifically and a dialysis patient in general when organizing their guest list.

Bob Here.

A while back, when I was still doing in-center hemodialysis treatments, I asked my attendant to shift the angle of my chair.

She gave me a look that was one-part confusion and two parts annoyance.  It wasn't that busy in the center, but since she couldn't see any obvious reason why I needed to change the angle of my chair, she probably assumed that this was part of yet another of my thoughtless, imprudent, ill-advised, reckless, rash, irresponsible, ludicrous capers that I was known to use to pass the time on one of these seemingly interminable sessions.

Not that it wasn't logical, or even expected, of her to think this way.  The previous week, I got in one of those moods and intentionally dragged her into a mind-numbing exchange that went something like this:

Bob Here.

Speaking of dialysis relationships...

Wait.  We were, weren't we?

Oh yeah.  Last month, I discussed the insanely close interactions we have with our attendants and nurses.  You know...three to five times per week?  Hours at a time?  Our sex lives should be so good.

I didn't include the sometimes adversarial affiliations we develop with nutritionists and social workers.  Unfortunately, my rapport with these mostly well-intentioned folks has been impaired by my tendency to instantly slip into "obnoxious smartass" mode as soon as I see them approaching.  They require a post of their own.

But, perhaps the closest relationship we build in our dialysis regimen is with our fellow patients.  Especially when you do in-center hemo and sit co-suffering with the same person every treatment.  I mean, at three times per week at an average of four hours per treatment, you're spending the equivalent of 26 full days per year with these people.  Talk about getting to know somebody.  Sheesh.

Bob Here.

Much as I like doing home hemodialysis...

Wait.  Did I actually just say that??

Let me try again.

Much as I prefer doing home hemodialysis to being treated in-center, the one aspect of in-center treatments that I do miss is the interactions and relationships with the nurses and attendants.

I mean, let's face it, when you do four-hour treatments three times a week, you're around these people an awful lot.  Outside of family and co-workers, they're probably the closest people in your lives.  And, if we had to be completely honest, sometimes they actually beat out the other two categories.

Plus, when you're having a treatment, you are the definition of a "captive audience."  If someone's getting on your nerves, you can't very well just leave the room to cool off, or hit the fridge for another beer.  You're stuck there, so a lot of times, you end up working your issues out before they're allowed to fester.

Bob Here.

It continues to amaze the people who know me best that somebody with a high degree of medical knowledge actually allowed me to take on the task of being responsible for my own dialysis treatments at home.

Now, as far as I know, my group of familiar cohorts probably think that watching me actually set up a complex dialysis machine is akin to watching The Marx Brothers, The Keystone Cops, or, for that matter, even The Three Stooges.

And, I should add, their skepticism would be pretty well justified.

Of course, in any numerical matter, I'd put my abilities up against just about anyone.  As long as they're not some child prodigy genius with an IQ equal to their zip code and who got a college degree at five years old.  Otherwise, give me a calculator and a spreadsheet and I can conquer the world.

On another front, however, I'm one of those people who you might politely call "technically inept." 

Bob Here.

One of the many commonalities among dialysis patients is that many (most? all?) of us have spent a significant amount of time in hospitals.

Between being diagnosed and treated for kidney failure and any and all associated ills, we've all seen our shares of OR's, ER's, EMT's, RN's, MD's, and BMW's.

Wait a minute...BMW's?

Oh yeah.  Big Money Wasters.

Anyway, there's just one little issue with inevitably finding ourselves somehow imbedded in these fine institutions.

Well, okay, maybe it's not such a little issue.  And I should just speak for myself on this, I shouldn't assume anyone else feels the same way.

My issue is that I hate hospitals.

Bob Here

"Do you know how many doctors it takes to change a light bulb?"

I was having an in-center dialysis treatment when I asked this of the guy sitting next to me out of the blue.  This guy had sat next to me regularly, so he barely looked up from the book he was reading when he mumbled his answer.

"No...how many?"

"Three.  One to find a bulb specialist.  One to find a bulb installation specialist.  And one to bill it all to Medicare."

The guy just snorted slightly and continued reading.

"Probably at double his normal hourly fee..."

No response.

I was quiet for a few minutes, just sitting there thinking.